


Red Light Special

by Alemanriq, AlohaSoleil, Picajc



Series: Grunge AU [6]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Angry Sex, Art, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fanart, Fluff and Smut, Grunge AU, Marriage, Married Sex, Multiple Sex Positions, NSFW Art, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Premarital Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2020-05-19 19:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alemanriq/pseuds/Alemanriq, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlohaSoleil/pseuds/AlohaSoleil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Picajc/pseuds/Picajc
Summary: NSFW oneshots for Imelda and Héctor in various stages of their relationship in Grunge!AU.





	1. Tell Me You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So since our Grunge AU collection is a bit everywhere, we thought it would be easier to compile the sex oneshots in one place. 
> 
> We hope you will enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baking is fun. 
> 
> But what do you do to kill time, especially when your husband won’t stop bothering you?
> 
> Era: early marriage

Imelda was going to smack him. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“But I—”

“Stop, Héctor! Do not touch me.” She dodged his approaching hands and walked past him. 

“It’s not that bad, I can handle this.” 

“You have flour all over your hands! Don’t touch me or  _ anything. _ ” Imelda placed a few small bowls into the sink and filled them with water to soak. She turned to him, hand on her hip. “Wash.  _ Now. _ ” 

Héctor pouted and reluctantly stood beside her. He towered over her and had to look down to meet her eyes, while she up. She was so cute in her loose tank top and elastic waist shorts, hair falling out of her messy bun, and bare face blinking back at him. Their height difference was so perfect in his eyes. How his intense, passionate wife was also a tiny human being and she chose him to protect her. 

Not that she always needed it, but he would always be there to fill that role. 

Imelda turned the water on and glanced up at him, waiting for his large hands to run under the cold sink. “Héctor, come on—ayy!” She flinched back at the attack of kisses planted over her face. Long arms enveloped her into a firm hug and she tried to turn away from him, but he only used his strength to his advantage and turned her to face him. “¡Basta!” It wasn’t until his lips pressed against hers did she stop moving and momentarily give in. 

When he pulled away, rather than melting under the touch and wanting more, she gave him a flat look. 

“What? No good? I can try again,” he offered, leaning down to reach her before she turned her face again. 

“Wash your hands first—you’re wasting our water!” 

“Alright, alright.” And he finally loosened his grip around her and ran his hands quickly under the water. Semi-transparent rivers falling down the drain until it ran clear again. 

“Use soap, too.” 

“My hands aren’t that dirty.” 

“You need clean hands for cooking and baking. Put soap.” When she knew he was going to pout again, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed at the corner of his mouth. 

He blinked back in pleasant surprise and smiled. “Well, why didn’t you do that earlier?” He grinned and rubbed the bar of soap until his hands were lathered in suds. Both watched the water wash away all remnants of the bubbles, and Héctor patted himself dry with the nearby towel. “Happy?” 

“Mmhmm,” Imelda hummed pleased, before a slightly damp hand hooked on to her fingers. 

“Can I have a beso here too?” He gently tapped his small pout and tightened his grip on her when she wanted to move away. “Por favor, mi amor.” 

Imelda chuckled. “For what? Washing your hands?” 

“You gave me one for rinsing my hands, but now I need one for washing them with soap.” He jutted his lip out more. “Uno más, por favor.” 

“Ay, fine.” Imelda stepped closer and tiptoed again meeting him halfway as he leaned down. This time, she felt herself melting into the kiss when neither of them wanted to pull away. Héctor pressed into her with more pressure and wrapped his arms around her waist to secure her up. She was a little grateful for it because the heat rising in her body from the apartment and him would leave her jellied. His nose nudged against her cheek as he tilted his head for the perfect angle. Warm breaths brushed into the other when they pulled away, foreheads touching. “I thought you said you were going to help me bake, not distract me. We’re never going to finish these cupcakes, if you don’t stop.” 

Héctor chuckled and gave a small peck on her lips. “Let’s bake then.” 

They pulled away and swept over to the counter with an array of ingredients spread out—flour, eggs, sugar, measuring cups, spoons all neatly organized. Héctor stifled a laugh at the sight because of course his Imelda would make sure none of the ingredients and tools would touch—that each one would have its own space. Except a tinge of guilt came up at the leftover spilt flour streak along the counter. Imelda wiped over the mess with a paper towel and threw it away. 

“Help me with the eggs,” she ordered, moving the bowl and eggs closer to him. “Crack them.” 

Like an obedient child, Héctor gently took each one and cracked it along the rim of the bowl. In between cutting butter, Imelda side-eyed him and kept a critical eye on his task. The swift flick of his wrists as the shell let out a soft crack against the rim almost left her hypnotized. For a clumsy and sometimes scatter-brained man, he surprised her with some of his basic cooking skills. But he still required adult supervision. She almost laughed when the memory of burnt rice resurfaced—one of the many stories she held onto during their dating era.  _ ‘I’m not bad at cooking,’ _ she remembers his words.

“Done!” He tossed the last of the egg shells into the trash bin and playfully swirled the bowl—golden yolks spinning in circles. Imelda knew better than to fall for that pleased grin on his face silently asking for more commands. But she did need his help. 

“Whisk them quickly,” she ordered, passing him the metal utensil and quickly retracted her hand when his fingers tried to dig into her skin.  

“Sí, mi amor,” he sang with a mischievous smile. “Anything for el amor de mi vida.” The whisk twirled in his fingers like a drumstick and Imelda opened her mouth to yell at him when it almost fell. But he moved instinctively and settled it firmly in his palm, slowly descending it into the bowl in a rapid whisking movement. 

“You’re going to make a mess! Dáme!” 

“I’m not! Look how perfectly it’s turning out!”

“It’s about to spill!” 

“Está bien, ‘Mel—” 

“¡Dámelo!” Her hands gripped the bowl and she slid it safely into her own perimeter. As much as she loved Héctor, there were some (maybe many) things she would have to do herself.  _ “Ay, Dios mio…” _

“I’m trying to help.” 

“Well, it’s not working.” 

“Come on, mi vida—” 

“You can help mix the batter later,” she offered, whisking through the eggs with short, brisk movements. Then she poured it into the larger bowl with melted butter before adding the smaller ingredients. The colors were going to churn into a beautiful creamy-gold color, while the sweet scent of batter danced around the kitchen. Imelda kept a close eye on her abuela’s recipe and followed all of the detailed notes that were beginning to fade on the note card. She was about to reach out for the wooden spoon and, “What are you doing?” 

“Helping you bake.” Héctor’s body curved into hers with his long arms snaking over hers, until both hands were positioned over Imelda’s. “We can do this together. Literally,” he explained, already starting the motions.

Imelda almost froze at the sudden contact of him pressed against her from behind and grew annoyed at herself for enjoying it so quickly. The toned muscles of his chest pushing against her spine kept her petite figure locked between him and the counter, leaving no room to escape. A tightness surrounded her when she tried to subtly resist against his weight, and she realized he was only pushing her harder into him with every small effort she threw at him. His chin nudged lovingly against her temple as he attempted to control both of their hands churning the thickening batter. He laid a small kiss along her hairline that softened her defiance. A warm spark began to dwindle in her core that was more than just body heat manifesting close together.  

Imelda nudged her shoulder into his chest, trying to squirm her way out. “You’re making me sweat,” she managed to say without her voice breaking. 

He let out that playful chuckle and she felt a shiver tremble through her body quickly. “Am I?” Another kiss was bestowed upon her cheek and then her pulse. “It is a warm day with our baking...perhaps we should wear less clothes to cool us off.” One hand trailed along her heated arm and moved dangerously low to the small exposure of her hip. His thumb tugged at the waistband and let it snap against her skin. A smile curled on his face at the deep breath Imelda took in through her nose. He knew she was trying to keep her cool under his prying touch. 

“Go do something useful,” Imelda huffed, steeling herself and ignoring his gaze. She felt a small breeze down her back; a sign he stepped away from her. Yet the moment was short-lived. She sensed his footsteps closing the distance again and the hair on the back of her arms raised at the anticipation—surprising even in the heat. Instead of an almost sweaty body enveloping her once again, calloused fingertips brushed across the nape of her neck and gathered her hair together. She felt soft tugs along her scalp and subtle combing through her locks as he worked through the twists. A few seconds later, his hand covered her wrist and pulled off the hair tie conveniently settled there. 

“Ta-da!” 

“Ta-da what? What did you do?” Imelda reached back and felt the familiar weavings of a braid trailing down her spine. A few loose tendrils stood out beneath her fingertips, but she was pleasantly surprised how neat  _ Héctor _ managed it without mixing up the order.  

“¿Te gusta? Not bad, huh?” 

“Hm, not bad.” 

“Maybe I can become a hairstylist!” 

Imelda turned back with a blank look meeting his goofy grin. “Yeah, right. You can’t even take care of your own hair.” 

“I could still be good!” 

“If you want to cut hair, practice on Ernesto.” 

“I could practice on you first—”

“No.” 

“Maybe color—”

“No.” 

“A trim?” 

**_“NO.”_ **

Héctor deflated and sunk his chin on her shoulder with a small pout. “¿Por favor, mi amor?” His arms snaked around her arms into a bear hug and he turned his face into her neck to nuzzle there. The moment was short-lived since she jerked her shoulder up, until he lifted his weight off her. 

“Ask me one more time and I’m eating all the cupcakes by  _ myself. _ ” 

He inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t.” Yet, the cunning look Imelda gave over her shoulder told him otherwise. “Fiiiiiine,” he relented with a pout. 

“Héctor,” Imelda grunted, shifting in his arms. “Get off me. It’s hot.” The moment she said that, he tightened his arms around her again and warm breaths brushed against her neck, adding to the sultry heat. His lips and nose gently grazed her almost-burning skin—barely touching, but enough to send subtle shivers.  _ “Héctor.” _ He let a low sigh and detached himself from her. She turned and gently patted his cheek. “Good boy. Help me back now.” 

“Okay.” He surrendered with a gentle kiss on her cheek, taking the mixing spoon and dipping it into the batter. 

With half the team finally cooperating on summer baking, it seemed like only ten minutes passed when they finished pouring batter into the multicolored paper cups. An array of pastel pinks, blues, greens, and yellows sitting prettily half-filled with golden or chocolate batter. The aroma of sweet vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate intensified within the sultry temperature lingering in the kitchen—its own oven figuratively—and the scents escaped through the air vent into the neighbor’s living room. Thankfully, they set out to do this in the mid-morning hours before the afternoon sun could boil them alive at home. It only took Imelda thirty minutes to get her husband out of bed first. 

“How long do we let them bake?” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Imelda answered, setting the timer. She turned around to face him with a pleased smile. “Now all we do is wait.” 

“Well, what do we do while we wait?” Héctor wiggled his brows, looming closer until Imelda felt the hard surface of the counter digging into her back. She stopped him with her hand over his chest—the rapid thumping nestled beneath her quaint palm. Héctor tilted his head down to meet her gaze with darkened eyes; one she was familiar with. He had built an appetite while they were baking and his hunger began to waver in the dark brown irises. That blaze in his eyes called to mind the sensations of his fingertips trailing teasingly along her hips and neck. 

“I’m feeling warm,” Imelda murmured, voice dropping almost into a purr. 

“Let’s cool you down then, hm?” He tucked a strand behind her ear and walked over to the sink. With his back facing her, Imelda’s eyes followed the lean contours of his shoulder blades and biceps exposed from his tank top. Some of his muscles peeped through with subtle movements and she could only imagine what his arms were capable of performing this morning. Although he was thin and scrawny, most assumed he lacked physical strength to carry out hefty labor or to impress a woman. 

Imelda Rivera knows they are wrong.

She has the memories of him lifting her against the wall and moving in a way that made her forget her own name. Or when he helped move boxes at her workplace because they had been heavy for  _ her, _ but not him. His muscles swelling with weights had her in awe and began an ongoing observation to expose his fitness levels with various tasks she could assign him. 

Her eyes explored lower to the small curves of his butt sloping inside gray cotton shorts. She involuntarily flicked her tongue over her lips at the view. A nice chill from the window replaced the warmth scorching along her collarbone and her ears caught the sound of water running with loud squelching. 

Héctor pivoted back and loosely held the cold towel in his hands. He gently held Imelda’s wrist and slowly caressed it over her hand, forearm, elbow, up until rolling over her shoulder. The chill raised small goosebumps and a sweet relief from the surrounding warmth. She let out a breathy gasp when that cold sensation sharpened with the soft breaths Héctor blew over the misty layer. Her other arm began to share in this simple experience until reaching her other shoulder. Héctor delicately traced the shape of her collarbones; subconsciously, Imelda tilted her head back to grant him more access as he dipped his head slightly lower for a stronger effect. Then he trailed dangerously lower down her chest and drawing closer in between the valley of her breasts. Imelda’s hands brushed against his arms, trying to force his touch where she needed him. 

Experimentally, he ran the towel over the curves of her breasts and watched with a critical eye her nipples begin to protrude beneath crisp, damp fabric. 

“It’d be cooler with less clothes,” he murmured, sweeping the towelette gently across to the other breast. The warmth of his fingertips tickling her nipple forced a broken moan to spill from her throat. Imelda arched into the clashing sensations and erotic gush of water soaking her shirt. She glanced at his hand hovering above her cleavage—knuckles clenched tight as drops of fresh water seeped through his grip and blessed her skin. The droplets slowly trickled down and into her shirt, gluing the cotton to her body. It felt heavy and restricting—she needed to be free  _ now.  _ Héctor smirked at the anxious lip bite she sent him. “Let me help you, mi amor.” 

His fingers dug beneath the hem of her shirt, carefully pressing into soft flesh. Slowly, they slithered up and the smooth palms, rough calluses sparked a tightening heat to pulse in between her legs. The fabric began to bunch above his wrists as he firmly cupped her breasts into his clutch. Imelda surrendered to the natural urge to gasp when he gently massaged the curves with his thumbs, flicking slowly over her nipples beneath suppressed cloth. Her own small hands covered his and pressed in to knead the entirety of her in his palms. 

Héctor dipped his head and gently planted a heated trail of kisses down the center of her collarbone and over the exposed slope. Once his mouth came into alignment with his palms, he lowered his hands to support the underside of her breasts and swept his tongue over the hardened bud. Waves of warm pleasure surged through her and Imelda pressed Héctor’s head further into her. Her fingers tightened in his loose hair; torso curved into him, begging for more delicious indulgence to overwhelm part of her melting body. 

_ “Dios mio… _ just take off the fucking shirt already…” 

Perhaps it was the sweltering heat. Or the small crack in her voice. On any other occasion, Héctor Rivera wouldn’t so easily give into the mounting urge to fulfill her carnal needs. He would have slowed the swirl of his tongue and caressed her skin at the excruciating pace of a snail. His fingers would roam close to her panties, almost to the point where he could feel the proof of her arousal; instead, it would trail down her inner thigh. Then he’d look up at her with that maddening grin that magnified the impulse to smack him, until she could see his gaze peering at her as if she were the most divine entity he ever laid eyes on. 

With ferocious prowess, the shirt was forced over her head. There was barely time to register the movement when his lips crashed desperately against hers and arms squeezed her to his body with raw possessiveness. His body felt cooler with his own clothes serving as a barrier between him and her semi-naked body. She could hardly take in a full gasp of air when teeth grazed her lips and tongue rolled into her own. He forced all of her thoughts on him and the rising heat aching in her core—emptiness demanding to be filled and stroked with violent love. There was a vague awareness of him carelessly throwing aside her shirt and she pulled away, mouth widened to demand an ounce of respect for her clothes. Yet, for some reason, the command dissolved beneath the poetic tongue and sweet nibbling of her husband claiming her mouth.

_ “Imelda…” _ he growled, voice deep and guttural.  _ “Mi amor…” _

Their foreheads leaned against each other with chests heaving closely together. Héctor balled up the towel tight, bringing it over Imelda’s chest and forcing more water to trickle down his wife’s bare breasts. They glowed and glistened from the sliver of morning sunlight hitting beads of clear liquid. Imelda released a breathless moan into his ear and rubbed her thigh along the hard bulge straining against soft cotton. 

“Héctor,” Imelda purred, reveling in the low hisses escaping through his teeth with each stroke along his groin. She arched her back to present him with a closer view of her body. 

Suddenly, Héctor sank to his knees with his hands resting innocently on her ankles. He nuzzled his face into the soft flesh of her thigh—fresh open-mouthed kisses running up closer and closer into the sensitive territory of her inner thighs. A new rush of liquid melted in her core when his mouth teased the skin with hot breaths and puckered lips on the verge of meeting the junction between her legs. She could feel her shorts dampening as Héctor prolonged his blessing. Her breathing quickened as his hands anchored into her hips and he raised himself ever so slightly to run a tongue over the soaked spot; she found herself gripping his shoulders in anticipation—mind half gone to human’s primary instinct. 

_ “¡Héctor!”  _

His smile burned over her abdomen as he glanced up at her with a devious eye. His lips delicately caressed just below her belly button, forcing her stomach to cave in from the firm kiss stamped there. He wasn’t supposed to kiss her there! Her shorts were meant to be yanked down to her ankles with reckless abandon and her panties moved aside so he could taste the essence of her dripping every moment he forced her to wait. She should be close to screaming in ecstasy—a heavenly orgasm rippling up from her core to skull; not moaning into the kitchen from frustration. Yet here he was, playing games with a devilish urge and slowly creeping up to kiss the underside of her breasts.  _ ‘He owes me!’ _

Her legs almost shifted close to control the aching pulse and she dug her nails into Héctor’s shoulders. He couldn’t torment her and not expect a bite of vexation—he knew exactly who he married, so he better love this. But the glorious touch of his lips and tongue gliding over the curve of her breast shattered the glass wall of exasperation she built since they started baking. 

A sharp gasp spilled from her throat and her body lurched forward once he closed his mouth around her. Her fingers detangled from his hair and gripped at his skull—nails grazing his scalp. Shivers of pleasure tingled with every swirl brushing against the hardened bud and the throbbing in her groin sharpened. Héctor’s other hand easily cupped the opposite breast, massaging and fondling with loving care. 

She hated him for this. 

He had a natural ability to create so much tension inside her, and easily unravel it with his amorous mouth and hands. But it was too late. She had given him the whole collection of keys to her pleasure long ago and she knew he would keep it with him for an eternity. 

“¡Mierda—así, Héctor!” 

“Hmmm, you’re being so quiet now,” he hummed proudly, lifting his head and extending pleasure to the other side. “You’re usually so...vocal.” 

“And whose...fault is— _ ah _ —that?” Imelda glared down at him, strands of hair falling aside her face. 

“The silence or the screams?” 

“Both,” she answered breathlessly. 

“You still love me.” 

“Do I?” 

Something stilled in him and his eyes hardened for a moment—that untamed glaze peeking through. Before Imelda could sneak another word, her body was suddenly forced to face the counter and large hands ripping down the cumbersome shorts to her knees. How liberating to finally be released from the restraints and almost vulnerably exposed. The sound of clothes wrinkling behind her elevated her heart rate and sent another slow gush of liquid arousal to soak her panties. She caught a shirt thrown away at the edge of her peripheral vision and she straightened herself, until long arms enveloped her and pushed her into the counter—her back flush against a warm and toned chest. 

“Do you love me?” His voice lowered into a husky murmur. He pressed his hips firmly against her ass and slowly grinded until soft whimpers bubbled out of Imelda’s throat. She could feel his bulge even harder through his underwear than it was when she was rubbing up on him, and her self-control was wavering quickly. 

“Go down on me.” 

“Are you wet?” Héctor kissed close to her ear, one hand shaking down to dip his fingers below the final barrier.

“Find out for yours _ —mmph.” _

“Ay, mi amor...you  _ are _ wet…” His fingers slid in further and flexed, while he continued to thrust subconsciously behind her. “And warm.” 

Imelda spread her legs more, stretching the width of her shorts as long, skilled fingers stroked the pleasurable fire. Though it was better than nothing, she needed more—friction, length, and power filling her to the brim and pushing against the end until she surrendered to the peak. 

Without warning, he stopped. 

His fingers slipped out of her and a wet trail dragged across her abdomen and over to her hip. Both musician hands smoothed over the arches and behind to squeeze the plush cheeks she always considered “fat.” The calluses scratched the sensitive skin; but with the smooth movement of gentle kneading, she didn’t mind the silent appreciation. 

Héctor stepped back, never letting go, and resting on his knees again. Imelda moaned as his grip tightened and her cheeks were spread apart for a moment. It almost hurt, but the pleasure overrode any pain she could ever feel with Héctor. She arched her back slightly to add a little more fullness to her husband’s view and she could hear the sharp intake of his breath. 

A low hiss escaped when she felt teeth slowly biting into one cheek. Again, never enough to truly hurt her—just enough to enjoy a small taste of pain. It didn’t take long for him to reach satisfaction, and once he released her, a gentle thumb brushed across the mark he left her. No marking was left without a sweet kiss and his lips pressed gently at the center of it. 

_ “So soft and thick...muy magnífico…”  _ Héctor murmured before sinking his teeth into the other side. He soothed the fresh crescent moon with another appreciative kiss. Fingers hooked onto the sides of her panties and stripped them down past mesmerizing curves. Imelda’s knees bent slightly to assist him in undressing her completely and quickly. Héctor flicked the useless garment where his clothes were ignored. A shiver of vulnerability rolled down her back when she felt his gaze burning—naked and raw, yet glorified in this compromising position. His hands caressed the entire stretch of her thigh, while he erected himself to full height and pulled her by the hips to rest snug against his pelvis. Both let out a groan at the friction so close to where they wanted. 

“You’re weak,” Imelda gasped, pushing herself harder into the bulge. She held onto the edge of the counter and extended her arms to create more distance between her and the surface. Plus, it gave her more leverage to give him a taste of his own medicine. “Now you’re the one who’s still dressed.” She smiled at the guttural groan erupting from behind her and she swayed her hips to gain control. 

But a strong grip on her breast and firm bite on her shoulder changed her tune with a high cry and soft pants. 

“But you’re the impatient one,” he murmured. 

“I’m...not,” she protested, biting down on her lip as she squirmed in the embrace. 

“Oh, you’re not?” 

Slowly, she could feel his briefs lowering and more warm flesh meeting her skin. The tip of his dick began to peek through and Imelda rocked back to force more of him to meet her hips. She felt him shimmy his way into full nudity. Yet the best part was the small jerking of his erect cock tapping in between her spread thighs. Her arm immediately swung back, feeling for him so she could guide him to nestle into the warm depths of her body.

Of course she wasn’t the impatient one. He was the one taking forever. 

“Can’t wait?” One hand turned her face toward him—noses centimeters apart and lips hovering on the edge of a touch. “I’ll give you what you want...you need only ask.” He met her in a slow-dancing kiss, yet the laziness of it was still potent enough to send her in a dizzy spiral as his tongue traced the inside of her mouth. 

She caught his lip in between her teeth, until he stopped moving. “I will not beg.” 

His eyes narrowed down at her and their foreheads touched as dominance and lust surged in their veins.

“Suit yourself, mi amor.” He aligned his dick to slide perfectly between the slick folds, the moisture coating almost his entire length. Both of his hands locked Imelda’s wrist to the counter and she squirmed in resistance to her imprisonment. 

Small waves of pleasure rippled when he pushed at a moderate tempo, building up a steady wave toward bliss. But then his hips would slow into a drag and kill the tempo. Her own body arched to try and maneuver him inside of her, but he only held her down firmer and with an overload of the senses. Héctor planted a trail of blazing kisses along her neck that left her jellied and ticklish. Imelda could barely keep a steady breath—her body screamed for him. But she couldn’t beg for it, she already said so! She was in control. She was in—

_ “¡Héctor!” _

“¿Sí?” 

“Just...just…” 

“Dime, mi amor.” He returned to bewitch her with swollen lips gently kissing the corners of her mouth; but never stopping his momentum to rub against her clit. 

“Te amo.” 

She couldn’t contain the high gasp hitching in her throat. Her fists clenched, toes curled and body arched when the entirety of him slowly,  _ easily  _ pushed inside completely. He stretched and filled her to the brim with ease—satisfying the aching emptiness in her core. The heat of him slowly rubbing her walls overpowered the summer rays and oven baking them. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he gave firmer, harder thrusts into her exposed body. There was barely a bite from his nails when those delicious vibrations rippled into the pit of her belly. 

“¡Ay, Dios! Qué rico, Héctor!” Imelda couldn’t squeeze her fist without breaking the skin and she grabbed the nearby towel for support. Her voice cracked,  _ “Fuck!” _

His hips moved faster on their own accord, until the loud clapping of their bodies became obnoxiously loud.  A hand smacked across her ass possessively and a subtle red mark began to surface on her skin. Héctor bowed along the curve of her body, lips dragging across her shoulder. The dewy layer of sweat slightly glued their bodies together with a stickiness that might have aroused disgust in this passionate woman; but the intense carnal need for each other left them careless about the world. _ “‘Melda…”  _ he growled, leaving hot kisses up to her earlobe. “You sound so hot like this…”

“Mi amor…” was all she could manage when his sexy voice danced into her ears and his bod put her under a sensual spell. She couldn’t (didn’t want) to control him. Not like this. Her husband was unhinged and she loved this rare domination. A logical thought could hardly grow in her drunken lust with his dick buried completely inside her, pushing her closer to oblivion. “Dáme más...más rápido, más duro…” 

Against her request, he slowed down into a gentle rocking. Imelda whimpered in protest, trying to push herself harder into him to indulge in that addicting bliss, until she felt a soft sting from his teeth biting her shoulder. Then hot breaths tickled her ears. “Do you really love me?” Slowly, his arm snaked around and hand slithered down to her clit. 

“Sí,” she mewled, immediately grinding against his fingertips. “Te amo.”

“Will you show me?” 

“¡Sí!” One of her hands released the towel and pulled his face closer so she could kiss him. Yet the awkward angle only gave Héctor an advantage to kiss her cheek, and it wasn’t enough.  

He stirred his hips back into motion, quickly speeding up to a level that forced both of their grips to tighten. His fingers rubbed harder against her sensitive clit and Imelda cried out freely. Her knuckles turned white against the towel and she would have thrown it aside, but she needed something to hold onto her brain was turning to mush. The vibrations kept her heart racing—that was how much she needed him. He was her life, love, everything that filled her with happiness. Héctor’s other hand released her hip and found her breast, claiming it with a squeeze. 

_ “¡Mierda!  _ Héctor...por favor…” 

“More?” Pleasure was building at an alarming rate and she was so close to exploding. Her eyes rolled back and it was coming. He must have known too because his thumb flicked over her nipple and he pressed, thrust with more vigor that became borderline painful, but it felt too good to stop. If she wasn’t so lost in the moment, she would have sworn she heard almost a soft hum resonating from him. “Vente para mi, Imelda.” 

_ “Héctor _ — _ Héct _ — _ ah!” _

That powerful surge of ecstasy flooded her senses; vision blurred, hearing muted, touch numb, and voice limited to high gasps and cries. She tensed under the pressure and sank into the overwhelming bliss that she only knew with the love of her life. Her legs quivered and she would have wilted to the floor if he wasn’t there to keep her up. Gracias a Dios she got him to marry her. If only she weren’t pinned to the counter at this moment because she wanted to dig her fingers into his back and force them closer together. Any coherent words couldn’t slip out, but she felt warm arms embrace her further and gentle kisses planted against her heated cheek. 

Her vision began to clear and she could see the counter again. “T-te amo…” she gasped, voice wavering with each roll of his hips. 

“Te amo,” he repeated to her and a low hiss escaped through his teeth. “I’m about to—” 

He slipped out and she could hear the arousing music of harsh pants and brisk stroking; only for her. A nice chill caressed her back as her mind realigned with reality. Imelda almost turned around to finish him off, but the warm spurts on her ass told her she didn’t need to. She rewarded him with breathy moans when she pushed back into his dick and felt him grinding against her. 

“Héctor, qué rico...mmm.” She reached back and felt the creamy, sticky liquid in between her fingers. Her hand moved in small, gentle circles to massage the cum over her skin—a sexy for sight him she figured. “So much, mi amor.” 

“All for you,” he replied lazily. 

Imelda turned around, wiping the remnants of his orgasm on her stomach, and pulled him into a loving embrace. The subtle stickiness of their bodies was a little uncomfortable, but she just wanted him to hold her. His heart raced in her ears and pride swelled in her heart, making her smile.  _ She  _ made him like that; not some shallow tart who would move on to Ernesto after sight. The feeling of Héctor nuzzling his face in the crook of her shoulder was enough to dissolve the name and reorient her thoughts back to him. His hair tickled her cheek a bit and she blew it out of her face. Only now she noticed the smell of fresh cupcakes lingering in the room—a pleasant scent after some much-needed rough intimacy. 

It was so hard to let go, yet she was the first to shift in his arms. Imelda peered up into his eyes and stood on her toes to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “Te amo, mi amor.” 

Héctor smiled and held her face with both hands. He pressed more loving kisses to her willing mouth, before peppering her cheeks, eyes, and nose with them. “Te amo mucho,” he repeated softly, lips hovering over hers before gently meeting again. His arms encircled her and tightened as if they would lose each other at a moment’s separation. 

“¡Ay Dios, basta!” she gasped, swatting his arm. 

He laughed and released his wife. “I’m just showing my endless love.” 

“You did that and now I’m hotter than before we started baking,” Imelda retorted. 

“Awww, but we did a great job killing—” 

**_Ding!_ **

“See?” He pointed at the oven. “Perfect timing.”

Imelda rolled her eyes. “Alright, now help me take them out.” 

“Claro. I’m really good at taking and pulling out many things,” he said cheekily. 

“You better shut up or I—” 

“Will top me?” 

“Forget it!” she grumbled, doing the task herself and setting the pan carefully on the counter. “Now these need to cool down…” 

Automatically, he was at her side with restless hands smoothing over her hips. “Since they need to cool down,” he started, “we can bless the couch again—” 

“Héctor...” 

“And you can show me how it’s done with you on top, pushing me into the couch—”

“¡Héctor!” She turned around with a dangerous finger pointing in his face. 

He smiled innocently. “¿Sí?” 

Imelda pointed in a different direction. “Sit down on the couch and don’t touch yourself until I get there...that’s my job.”

_ “Of course, mi amor.” _ He winked and blew a small kiss in her direction, already halfway into the living room.


	2. Room Shaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, Héctor is trying to be good and Imelda is the one being bad. What's the harm in having sex...at work?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Era: dating

_Finally!_

Héctor pumped an am to himself in victory. Six o’clock arrived and he could finally close the store. With everyone having left early for various reasons, the temptation to close shop early gnawed at his brain. But overlooking the entire joint, his imagination kicked in gear and replaced the scenery with a desolate kingdom requiring some direction and authority. Thus, Héctor decided to be a good boy. 

 **_Knock. Knock. Knock._ ** 

Oh. 

Did someone come back? Maybe Gustavo left his lunch. If it was him, Héctor might have a good minute to hide it before he managed to unlock the door. Héctor stepped out of the aisles and grinned at the visitor, instantly unlocking the door. “Hola.” A kiss. “I was going to visit you today.” 

Imelda shrugged. “There’s nothing exciting at the mall today.” 

“Same here.” 

“No, you have music and that’s more fun to work with when no one is around.” 

“I guess.” 

Imelda scanned the silent store. “Is anyone here?” 

Héctor shook his head. “Everyone left early, so I’m closing up by myself.” 

“Oh, that’s nice. You got the whole place to yourself.” A twinkle sparkled in her eye and she rubbed his arm thoughtfully. 

He eyed her gesture, an inkling of suspicion at the forefront of his mind. But he ignored it. No harm in that. “Mmhm. Only for a few hours.” 

“Could I have a tour?” 

“A tour?” 

“Sí.” imelda looked at him calmly. “You were a great tour guide at La Casa Rivera.” 

Héctor chuckled. “There’s not much to see, linda. Just a few storage closets.” 

“You saw the shoe store and it’s only a third in size compared to here,” she pointed out. “I’m just curious to see what your workplace is like.” 

“Well...actually, it’s…oh, alright. Rivera can give you an adventurous tour of The Music Bungalow.” He coughed excitedly. “Señorita, are you ready?” 

Imelda smiled, holding his hand tightly. “Claro.” 

“Orale, let’s begin! Now, querida, we are standing in the grand hall of music! We have the records of world-renowned artists such as Madonna, Queen, and Elvis.” 

“Wow, very cool,” Imelda remarked in English. 

“Yes, super cool,” he parroted in English. Switching back to his mother tongue, he continued, “We have many genres to satisfy your music cravings—jazz, rock, classical, and so much more. If you are interested in purchasing a fine piece, you can do so at the counter behind me.” He motioned at the cashier station with a dented coffee can as a tip jar. 

Imelda giggled. “I’m sure I’ll find something I like.” 

“Since there are thousands of music cases, I can’t personally display them for you, so we will move to the behind-the-scenes area where no one is allowed,” Héctor continued, guiding them toward the hallway in the back. 

“So I get VIP access?” 

“Sí, because you are the most beautiful and greatest shoemaker of all time. You’ve blessed all the celebrities who pass through here.” 

“Are you trying to flatter me?” 

“No! It’s a common fact,” Héctor rebuffed. “I’ve been told you will have a plague on these walls soon.” 

“In a music hall?” 

“Yep.” 

“Interesting.” 

Héctor opened the first door, revealing a clash of musical instruments and a few parts—some in and out of boxes. Barely a sliver of natural sunlight could penetrate the cement walls; the lightbulbs also had a soft layer of dust trapping most of the light attempting to escape and illuminate the crowded storage room. One could barely move in here, unless you were tall and lithe like a musician and part-time tour guide. “This is where we house our imported instruments. Some are made here in México, others from Italy and Spain. We’ve even got a violin from China. We clean it up before putting it on display in the hall.” 

Imelda peered inside, quickly examining the musical mess. “They must all be beautiful.” 

“They definitely are. And also unique, like a fingerprint. No instrument is the same.” 

“I never thought of it that way,” Imelda pondered. 

His hand gently squeezed hers. “It’s just how I think of them. Kind of like people.” He tilted his head. “Ready for the next exciting room?” 

She nodded and followed him into the upcoming space. 

The next storage room held an abundance of CD’s in boxes, wrapped in bubble wrap and paper. Artist names were marked on the boxes in black ink as if labelling their own possessions. Others were crossed out with a large X and then another artist was written beneath, then underlined in emphasis. Héctor apologized for the raw mess and he explained all shipments arrive in random orders, and the employees work to organize them for public viewing. It often takes about three days due to the limited hands handling them, but the job gets done. 

The third room could barely be described as a “room.” More like a closet full of snacks—lollipops, chips, crackers, and cases of glass Coca-Cola bottles. The purpose of this space, according to Héctor, is to nourish the celebrities and workers. It often has to get restocked due to popular demand and because someone keeps sneaking the chips home every other week. 

“And this final room of tour is like a mixer. Many different items are put in here,” he explained as Imelda stepped in. 

It was as large as the first room. The two most notable features were the organized clutter on shelves and stack of video games barely hidden from view. There wasn’t much ventilation here with the door closed as the scent of an aging building lingered. Nothing repulsive, but rather it might smell like the old gym a child would in with their friends during summer break. This room had more space to walk around without having to step over boxes and trinkets. Overall, a cozy little break room for one to move out of view from work. Perfect to get locked in with someone else for some intimate privacy.

“There’s even a couch.” 

“Excellent eye, querida. It belongs to our owner, but he temporarily lent it to us.” 

Imelda ventured in, pulling Héctor with her. “So that’s the end of the tour?” 

“Sí, señorita.” 

She faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding up to press against his warm body. Her eyes transitioned into a low, beckoning gaze. They flickered between his eyes and lips, her own teeth digging into the flesh of her lipstick-stained lips. Playing with the back of his hair, Imelda whispered, “You know...this is the perfect place to have some alone time with a significant other.” 

Héctor swallowed a lump in his throat, heat rushing to the tips of his ears and cheeks. “I never really noticed,” he almost stammered. 

“When you showed me the picture of Selena, I almost thought you were going to kiss me there.” 

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t have done it there hehe. It wasn’t special enough.”

“And after you kissed me, I’d imagine where we might stand if we had sex in there.” 

 _‘I knew she was up to something!’_ Héctor glanced aside, searching for options to maneuver out of the trap she began to lay out for him—physical temptation. “Uh...I wouldn’t do it at work because it’s....messy.” 

“This one isn’t,” she said. “It even has a couch, so we can be _comfortable.”_  

His brain scattered for a solution frantically, eyes barely meeting hers and hands stiffly holding on to her waist. “Actually, the couch isn’t comfortable at all!” he said a little louder than necessary, voice cracking an octave higher . “It’s—it’s not comfortable, Imeldita. It’s actually just hard material that makes your ass ache. Ernesto got a cramp from it. The couch is no good, and you deserve a better one to have sex on...like the one at home...or mine...away from work.” 

She raised a curious brow. “It’s uncomfortable?” 

Like a child, he nodded. “You’re not gonna like it.” 

Imelda remained silent, but continued to play with his hair—twisting the curls around her fingers or combing through any tangles she found. Finally, she unlatched herself from him, unfazed. “Alright. It’s not a big deal. May I sit on it and see?” 

_‘No.’_

“Sure.” 

“Gracias, amor.” 

_‘NO!! Say no!’_

“Of course, bonita.” 

_‘Héctor, what the hell?! Tell her not to sit down!’_

“Don’t...sit in the middle because it’s sunk in a bit,” he said instead, biting his tongue at his failure to properly follow mental directions. _‘Now you did it, idiota. Alright, just don’t look at her. Maybe that will solve the problem.’_  

…

His eyes instantly watched her leave and melted into a deep, heavy spell. 

Her hips swayed, curved figure almost melting before slithering gracefully unto faded black leather. Imelda crossed her legs strategically, fingers tracing the chafed fabric as if silently assessing its tattered quality. Then, she turned to him with a sultry smolder, eyes speaking for her. Héctor swallowed softly as a familiar sensation began to cause a restrictive discomfort in his jeans. He knew _that_ look too well, and he would never refuse her. He shouldn’t have told her she could sit there! Now, it was too late to take it back. Of all places, she wants to christen the back room at his workplace?! 

Sensing the inhibitions distancing him from her, Imelda relaxed further in the seat. “It’s very comfortable,” she purred, voice calm and controlled. 

“Sí, it is…” 

She softly patted the vacant space beside her. That intensity in her eyes never wavered and he did his best to stand against it, despite his body following her seduction. “Come sit with me, mi amor.” 

“I ca—we can’t, linda. Not here.” 

“We can’t do what here?” Imelda tilted her head innocently. “I just want you to sit down with me.” 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Héctor sighed, holding his next breath. “Let me just close up and we can go home—” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“A lot. We don’t have to worry about anyone catching us.” 

“But Ernesto is home.” 

“At least he’ll know to stay away,” he whined. “Imelda…” 

“This could be a little fun, cariño.” 

“But I could get fired!” 

Imelda shifted until her side rested against the backrest. “No one is here. You said so yourself.” 

“Someone might come or hear. We might _break_ something.” The moment she stood up and stared fiercely, his mouth clamped shut. _‘Fuck, she really wants this_.’ 

Imelda slinked over to him, eyes never leaving his. He wanted to direct his gaze elsewhere, but she wouldn’t allow him almost. She stopped when her chest pressed against him—the softness of her breasts easily distinguishable behind the light blouse. Without the firm cup bras she typically wore, Héctor could feel her teasing him even with cloth on their bodies. The physical touch began to unravel what little resistance Héctor held on to. His jeans grew even more uncomfortable and tighter as desire amplified in his gut. 

Closing her palm over his on the doorknob, she tiptoed and kissed under his jaw. “We just lock the door…” gently, the door _clacked_ and _clicked_ to lock, “...and be as quiet as possible.” 

Suddenly, he felt nails raking down his stomach, scratching over the button of his jeans. Héctor’s breathing labored, from the claustrophobic room and rising heat from her. “Being quiet isn’t _—oh—_ something we’re very good at, bonita…” 

Soft lips lazily traced the sharp contour of his jawline, before stopping at his goatee. Héctor scrunched his eyes shut to cancel the increasing temptation, but doing so only seemed to heighten the arousing sensations. “We can practice then,” Imelda murmured, stealing his hand and slowly guiding them back to the couch. 

A few squeaks cried out beneath his body as his weight fell on the aging furniture. _‘What am I even doing? We shouldn’t be doing this here! Dios, por favor, don’t let anyone come back.’_ The seat sank further beside him, along with a smooth leg hooked over his. Immediately, as if on autopilot, his gaze trailed over the exposed leg draped seductively. Imelda’s skirt bunched higher up her thighs, revealing more glorious flesh. One arm slithered around his shoulders, while her free hand explored the breadth of his chest. 

“See? This isn’t so bad.” The low whisper was warm against his skin, and sent a chill of shivers down his spine. Every kiss she bestowed clouded the small bursts of semblance remaining. 

 _‘Damn, she’s so convincing…’_ At least he was honest in saying there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. 

Suddenly, he felt a gentle jolt of pleasure in his groin, realizing her palm had contributed to the short spike of satisfaction. He squirmed, for more and to stop. If she continued, then he would only fall deeper into her sexual spell. The problem was he didn’t want her to stop! Like a pulse, she rubbed over the zipper in varying firmness, stirring the fire burning within him. “I-I don’t t-think this is a—good idea, _Imeldita-a-a-a,”_ he croaked. 

“Your body seems to be enjoying this,” she replied smugly, massaging the hardening bulge below her hand. 

“We c-can enjoy this at h-home—ayyy. Imelda _-aaah.”_  

“Shhh.” Her lips touched the corners of his mouth. “We have to be quiet, remember?” 

“But, but…” 

“Relax, músico. We don’t have to do too much here—I don’t have a condom with me. But we can still have a little fun.” 

“Imelda, I don’t know if—”  

“Don’t you think I’m beautiful?” 

Héctor faced her, eyes dizzy from logic and lust. “The most beautiful.”  

“Don’t you want me?” 

“Always, but uh...at the right places.” 

Imelda paused, then asked in a low, sultry tone, “Am I hot?” 

“Sí _—ahhh,”_ he gulped, shifting a bit uncomfortably. Suddenly, the temperature seemed to have elevated in the small confinement of a closet.   

“How hot am I?”  

He choked out a gasp as her hand pressed harder. “Um _mmmmm_...well…I, er, you s-should know the a-answer.” 

Nothing more could be said when she pulled him in for a hard, desperate kiss. That battle between reason and desire dissolved when her tongue slipped past his lips and natural instinct claimed control. The breathless movements; teeth clacking gently with the subtle angle shifts; soft lip biting; and, muffled moans. What the hell did he even worry about? _She_ was the answer. There was nothing to stress over with her by his side. 

Allowing himself to indulge in the luxury of the moment, his hand travelled up her thigh, moving closer to the center and begging for permission. The soft moan forcing her lips away from his; the subtle shift of her thighs spreading apart as the tips of his fingers traced the damp border of her panties were too irresistible to reject such an invitation. Every playful bite she nipped further roused the raw hunger filling his core. Despite the intense wave of dominance conquering him, Héctor climbed over Imelda with the gentle prowess of a predator stalking its prey. A slight discomfort arose in their compromising position due to the spatial restrictions of couch and narrow closet, but the thought barely left a dent on his mind as he stroked, caressed her. Imelda drew her leg back, resting it over the armrest and Héctor nestled more comfortably into her. 

As their breathing labored through suffocating kisses, his fingers pushed aside the fabric, sliding easily into the warm depths. Automatically, he pushed higher along the roof near the entrance between each stroke and cherished the high, breathless gasps stuttering from Imelda. Her hands fell to the front of her blouse, shakily unfastening each button and revealing a glimpse of soft cleavage and a nude bra following the perfect curves. Recognizing the movement, Héctor trailed his kisses down her neck, over her wildly thumping heartbeat, and finally _—immediately—_ along the curve of her breast.

Imelda moaned in anticipation, forcing the cups down and fully exposing herself. Her body curved beneath him as he kissed over the sensitive nipple, then arched up, pressing against his as his tongue circled the nub. After a moment, she fell back into the couch, urging him closer. “You _—ayy,_ didn’t answer my...question, _ah!”_  

“Hmm…” Héctor barely gave her a peek in the eye, instead preoccupied with the other breast in his mouth. 

“How hot am _—ah! Fuck._ Qué rico, amor...” 

His fingers moved faster, except his thumb firmly rolled over her clit in small circles. A brief flicker of a smile twitched on his face—satisfaction peeking through his eyes. Imelda squirmed in a fit—fist finding his shirt and clenching with white knuckles. 

 _“Fuckfuckfuck, me vengo—!_ ” 

 _Now,_ Héctor looked up, witnessing pure beauty in ecstasy. She pulsed around his fingers and she was warm—enough to melt gold; her body leaned forward ever so slightly, chasing the momentum of pleasure coursing within; dark eyes rolled back; luscious pink lips parted; and, a symphony of mewls and whimpers for him. 

Héctor slowed his pace down to a drawn-out crawl to ease her from the overwhelmingly shot high. He kissed her flushed cheek and slid his fingers out, noting the hot breaths tickling his ear. An abundance more of slickness dripped on his knuckles, leaving a small damp trail along her thigh when he brushed against it. “Do I still need to answer your question?” 

Rather than answer, a blur streaked his vision, lips and teeth stealing his breath once more. Some of his hair fell forward like a curtain demurely concealing half of Imelda’s face. Héctor could barely keep his own eyes open and see her reactions. But the desire sharpened without visual distractions and the sensations of her were enough to _—OH._  

A low moan vibrated on her lips as he squirmed slightly. Imelda’s knee worked its way between his legs, grinding firmly against his groin. The more he reacted to her, the harder she pushed and teased him. In response, Héctor bit down on her lips until Imelda released a rewarding moan. 

“Get up,” she panted. 

“Huh?” 

“Get...up…” 

“¿Por qué?” Héctor pulled her lip between his teeth lightly before gently letting go. He craned his head forward to nibble around her neck. Imelda shoved him back before he could mark her with fresh hickeys, forcing him to his feet and pressing until he stood against a shelf. He blinked confused as her hands roamed down his chest. “What are you—” 

“I’m going to suck your dick.” 

“...oh.” 

Her hands found their way to the zipper of his faded jeans and Héctor shook his hips to expedite the process. Once they bunched up at his lengthy shins, she spread her palms over the stretched cotton briefs, avoiding the hard bulge demanding her attention. Her fingers then hooked on to the hemline and yanked the useless underwear down midway of his thighs. Slowly, she sank to rest almost her entire weight on the balls of her feet. 

Ever since he noticed one of his exes with bruises on her knees for giving him a blowjob, he would avoid having his partner on her knees while doing this. From then on, the standing-kneeling blowjob position didn’t carry a strong appeal to him anymore. Peering down, he noted that Imelda was on her feet rather than knees, but it might be easier if she just sat on the couch. _‘She is so fucking stubborn.’_ He was about to hobble back to the furniture, until hands encircled him and began to caress his shaft and balls. _‘Damn it, she always does something like this when I’m about to do another thing.’_ His thoughts were cut off real quick when he felt the wet and warm sensation of her mouth softly sucking him. 

“Imeldaa,” he whined. “Go sit on the cou— _aaaaahhh.”_

She swirled her tongue around the ridge of the head. “I don’t want to, so shut up and enjoy this.” With that said, she took him in her mouth, sending stars to dance in his eyes. 

Automatically, his hips would subtly arch into her, but not enough to choke her…hopefully. Héctor tossed his head back, treasuring each small wave of pleasure rippling in his core. Looking down, he became mesmerized at how the dark-haired beauty bobbed her head in a steady rhythm and used her hand to stroke from the base to half his shaft in harmony to drive him insane. As if sensing someone’s eyes on her, she met his gaze and Héctor immediately went into a dizzying spiral under the intense, piercing stare. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing and how to unravel him so easily. 

Suddenly, that tightening ecstasy began to coil until it broke. His toes curled within the handcrafted boots gifted by Imelda. Quickly, the pleasure escalated and Héctor gripped the edge of the shelf for physical support as he waited for the ultimate dawn to break. 

_“Imelda, sí, I’m about to—”_

**_Thud._ **

**_Thud._ **

**_Thump._ ** 

“Ow. What the hell was that?” Imelda touched her head, peering at the fallen items that landed near her, a small case stood out and caught her attention. 

“Ay, perfect timing.” Héctor also reached out and gently pat the spot that hit her. “Ernesto’s movie.” He tried to turn her face back to him and what they were originally doing to remain in the moment. “”Linda, por favor. I was almost there.” 

“Espera.” Imelda held her hand up and picked up the seemingly innocent “Footloose” VHS case. “If this is Ernesto’s, I bet there’s porn in it.” She swiped the movie off the floor and carefully examined it. 

“It’s just a movie. Querida, por favor, I need—“ 

A delighted and amused laugh erupted from her, and she excitedly pulled out a small box, shaking it. “Look what we found!” 

 _“Oh no.”_  

Imelda looked inside the box of condom, muttering numbers. “We have five. Seems like we have to use one now.” 

“Or none. Let’s just put it back and I can finish off. Then, we go home and do more there.” 

Imelda gave him a flat look. “Héctor, this is a sign. Even the universe wants us to have sex here.” 

Héctor shook his head. “This is a sign we should get out of here.” 

“If Ernesto had this, then he must have fooled around in this closet at work, too.” 

“But that’s Ernesto!” He almost cried out. “I might get fired.” 

“Tsk, you won’t get fired.” She rolled her eyes. “Let Ernesto get in trouble if your boss finds out about this. Then we don’t have to worry about a thing.” 

“That’s not a good idea, but also not the worst.” 

“Mi amor, you’re still hard, didn’t cum, and we have condoms. So we have to finish the job, no?” Imelda smiled. 

“Actually, I’m a little soft now, but yeah...we can...at home. Mira, ‘Melda, you can just suck me off and I’ll still be happy.” 

Her attention was barely on whatever he said; instead, her fingers flipped through the various wrappers. “Oh, perfect. There’s one in your size!” She pulled out a condom and showed him. In dark red, the word, ‘Grande,’ was printed over the center. 

“No, no, nononononononnnnnngggghhh, ay. I—mel—da…” Héctor bit his tongue to contain any more moans, groans, pants, and gasps from coming out of his mouth as he endured another temptation attack. 

A smug smile curled on Imelda’s face as she continued to slowly run her tongue over his shaft and hand massaging the head. “Maybe you’re fine with just that, but what about what I want? We’ve come this far and no one has noticed yet.” 

Héctor writhed, unsteady breaths escaping. “I’m just trying...to protect us. _Nnnghhh, mierda!_ Besides, I’m not sure if I could enjoy this if I’m stressed _—ugh, Dios míoo.”_

Imelda’s hand moved to squeeze at the base as she sucked hard on him. He clutched her head, holding her still and weakly attempting to push her away. She resisted his failing protests and refused to stop, until his hips slowly pushed forward. Only then did she do so—much to his irritation. “Years from now, you will love remembering this. Haven’t you ever wanted a crazy memory?” 

“Uh, yeah. I guess…” He arched to tickle her lips for more delicious pleasure. But Imelda turned away with each attempt, increasing the mumbles drawing out from under his breath. 

Her fingers traced his entire dick with a feather-light touch. Every few seconds, it would jerk from the ticklish sensation. More and more blood seemed to rush down, only making him harder than he thought possible. He clenched his jaw as she continued her teasing. _Pause. Go. Pause. Go._ Finishing this is so easy and yet she’s dragging it out like a game of cat-and-mouse! This could all be over in a few minutes if she’d just put her mouth on him again. 

“This is my gift to you, mi amor,” she purred, kissing the tip. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” 

“Me n-neither…” 

Her lips nuzzled his skin tenderly. “I wouldn’t do anything like this with anyone, but you.” Those hot breaths sent shivers down his spine as she spoke. “You make this feel so exciting and safe.” 

“Ahhh, keep going.” 

With a smirk, she rewarded him by swirling her tongue around the round tip. “You make me feel warm inside and take care of me so good.” 

“I do?” he asked, gasping. 

“Sí. I want to feel your dick inside me right now, stretching and filling me up all the way. I can’t resist you, amor.” 

“Fuck...okay…” 

Next thing he knew, Imelda gave a soft push against his chest and he landed back on the couch. Damn bruja had him under a spell again. In the hypnotized daze, his body was too slow to react. Imelda mounted him, legs on both sides to lock him in and prevent his escape. Despite the dim lights, it was still enough to create an angelic silhouette around Imelda—only more arousing with her freely exposed breasts from the blouse. His dick casually brushed against her panties and thighs and all he could repeat in his mind was, “This is safe, this is safe…” 

He caressed her thighs and trailed upward beneath her skirt, bundling the denim up to her hips and revealing royal blue underwear. A new one, it seemed. His hands roamed over to rest on her ass. Unable to hold back, he squeezed them and marvelled at how perfectly they filled in the cup of his palms. 

That gesture also sparked Imelda to lean into him, face buried in his shoulder. She ran a hot tongue along his neck and softly bit near his pulse, practically making his vision go blurry and sending the room spinning. Then a new line of kisses down his jaw. Imelda settled herself so his dick was pressed against the front of her body. He could feel how wet she was through her panties and how she rubbed over his shaft firmly to reinforce the intensity of her lust. Ever so slightly, she grinded into him like a gentle wave. She had cornered him and tortured his own restraints with her sexuality, and the movements as if she were going to ride him were too powerful to battle. 

“Fuck me, Héctor,” she demanded in a kiss. 

“...Alright.” He surrendered and could feel her instantly smiling, teeth playfully biting his lips. 

Eyeing him, she asked in between a flurry of kisses, “Should I put the condom on with my mouth?” 

“Um…” Just because he agreed to this did not mean he couldn’t think properly. However, if she put a condom on him with her mouth it could either be tedious or not go as planned. “It’s okay. I’ll do it myself, bonita.” 

Imelda pulled back, pleased. “Alright. I’ll get it for you.” She slithered and slowly her weight was lifted off, leaving him some extra room to breathe deeply. On all fours, she crawled to the dispersed box and reached for the small treasure. 

Now that her skirt had been bunched up, Héctor had a perfect view of her ass on the floor, so close within reach. The way the hem of her panty hugged her skin and accentuated the natural curves. It had to be another tactic. If he looked closely, he could see the damp spot on her panties. Héctor could not deny how sexy she was and seeing her slightly vulnerable like that only amplified his desire for Imelda. He itched to jerk himself off, but the value of her handling him would be worth the short wait. 

Finally, she returned with the “Grande” condom, handing it over and straddling him again. “Are you sure you don’t want any help?” 

“Está bien.” He tore the wrapped with his teeth, plucking the translucent rubber. Imelda gripped his dick, steadying it for him as he hovered over the bulbous head. Héctor glanced at her before proceeding to unroll the contraceptive onto himself completely. Her hands stroked him for extra measure and beamed. “What about your underwear?” 

“Just push it aside.” She forced the useless fabric to the side as she positioned herself over his erection, sliding down slowly until she sat completely on his lap. 

Héctor could barely inhale a full breath in the suffocating heat of their bodies in a quaint space. For a moment, he thought he had forgotten how to breathe as she opened up, gripping him tightly and allowing him inside until the end. The surreal sensation of entering her was a phenomenon too profound to be perfectly described in words. It never failed to leave him in awe. This was the very moment he and Imelda agreed to be joined intimately on a physical and emotional plane. Her weight pressed into his lungs, forcing more air out of his system. A few beads of sweat began to form at the crown of his head and his loose shirt began to raise a claustrophobic sensation. Damn it, he should have taken it off earlier. Unable to think, Héctor finally searched for a part of her to hold onto—his hands quickly landing on her behind once more. 

A low breathy moan spilled from his lips as his vision spiralled. But then, Imelda shifted, creating new sensation to take hold around him. Her body rolled, curved as she moved up and down on him. He must have been paralyzed that she carried the initiative to put themselves into motion. _Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth._ Peering down,  herr breasts reached centimeters from his chin with every rock of her body. By the time his focus could be fixed on her breasts, she pulled back and pushed them close to his face within a second. He yearned to kiss between her cleavage again, craving the pleased moans she made when he suckled the sensitive buds. Lying down here or on a comfortable bed would be perfect to appreciate the slight bouncing of her breasts, instead of on the aging couch knocking against the wall. 

But Imelda is already perfection, so it didn’t really matter at this point since she was riding him hard at work. 

A sharp gasp hissed in his ear and his grip on her ass tightened. That earned him another soft cry along with the bite of her nails digging into his shoulder. His own hands dug into the supple flesh of her, lightly scratching her skin. The high gasps swaying in his ears only encouraged him to slide hand up the curve of her back and run a feathery trail of fingernails down the outline of her spine. 

“Héctor…” Imelda mewled, nibbling his lip and leaning further into him, trapping him against the couch for no escape. She grinded against him, harder and faster, reigniting the roll of ecstasy in his core. Fuck, if she didn’t slow down, he might not have enough time to slip out. Suddenly, he felt her hand maneuvering between their rocking bodies and down to their groins. 

“Nnngghh, Imelda—what are you, _hnng fuck_ —doing?” 

“I want...to cum at the same time as you.” Her fingers struggled to comfortably stroke herself and this soon became a prime opportunity for him. 

“Espera, linda…” Héctor forced her to pause—an agitated whine vibrating in her throat. He slipped out, internally thankful that he wasn’t about to finish in thirty seconds like he thought. His hands dug into her hips, twisting around. “Turn the other way, amor.” Once her back turned to him, he wrapped an arm protectively around her waist. The other hand was free to roam and palm her breasts. 

Imelda guided him back inside of her, both releasing a harmonized groan as they were rejoined. This time, Héctor led the dance, hips stirring into a determined motion. Slow and firm; enough to relax Imelda and coax her into leaning completely back. Her hair tickled his face and a few strands got caught in his mouth, but he brushed the soft mane aside easily. He clutched at her breast again as his thrusts picked up speed—faster, harder. Their bodies soon clapping in the silent room to the high squeaks of the couch stands, leather rubbing, and rhythmic pounding of the back tapping the wall. Imelda spread her legs further in nonverbal submission and fingers rubbed over her clit without restraint. 

“¡Sí, sí, Héctor! Así, carino!” 

Héctor growled into the crook of her neck. That intoxicating perfume wafting in his nose, completing the sensory overload of her. “You make me loco.” 

“¡Más rápido, sí!” She clenched the back of the couch, knuckles white as she surrendered to the intense motion he had created. 

“Hnnnng, ugh Imelda. _Eres divina.”_  

“No pares, por favor... Ay, qué rico!” 

Hearing her voice crack, pant, gasp, moan in his ears was always a divine song he could listen to for eternity. But in the silence of the room, a small bit of paranoia infiltrated his mind. What if someone could hear from outside the store? If he could open his eyes and look around for a radio to turn on, that might alleviate the pesky voice. Quickly, that thought was eliminated when the current of warmth returned, leaving him gasping at the course spreading to his spine. 

“‘Melda, I’m going to cum soon…” 

“Yo también,” she moaned, remaining on top of him. 

“You need to—hmmm—get off, mi amor, before I _—ahhh!”_  

“I’m almost there.” 

“‘Melda, por favor—” 

“Mmmm! 

 _“Im—”_  

Finally, she jumped back in perfect time as the ecstasy overwhelmed their senses. Héctor arched up, toes curling in his boots, and arms pressing her close as the orgasmic wave overpowered every nerve in his body—white liquid filling the condom. Thank goodness, Imelda wasn’t facing him to see the stupid look he gives in that vulnerable, uncontrollable state. Nothing could compare to the flawless scene of pleasure coursing in her body. She tensed in his embrace, squirming until the high slowed into an empty rhythm. Kissing the back of her neck, Héctor pulled her to rest against him and he nestled his head along her shoulder as the lust seeped out of his bones and an exhausted heaviness befell upon them. 

They panted quietly, attempting to regain their breaths, heart rates thumping against their sternums. Héctor preferred to gaze on her face during cuddle sessions—the deep blush on her cheeks, wild strands of baby hair sweeping over her eyebrows, and eyes hazed. It’s just that he could barely move, and holding his small queen was enough to leave him satisfied. 

“That was…” Imelda muttered. 

“...insane.” 

She shifted so both legs draped across his lap and she could face him while holding onto his neck or shoulders. Their noses bumped gently before lips met in tender, languid kisses. “You were so good, mi amor.” 

Héctor murmured slowly, “I can’t believe…” 

“How amazing it was?” 

“...I had sex at work. Dios mío, I’m gonna be fired.” 

Imelda rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. “Relax, músico. No one heard.” 

“God heard.” 

“You’re not that religious.” 

“But he could give Chich a vision or something of what happened.” One hand dug into his scalp. “Then he’ll smash me with the couch or send me flying into space.” 

She silenced him with another kiss, until he softened. “Want me to fuck you again?” 

“Not here, por favor,” he begged. 

Imelda kissed his nose. “Are you sure?” 

“Can we go to your place instead?” 

“Alright.” She combed back his hair and wiped away some leftover lipstick with her thumb. “Do you want dinner, too?” 

He nodded. “Okay. We can pick up something tonight.” 

“Then we’ll have dessert again,” she teased, winking. 

“I might just fall asleep thought, bonita,” he chuckled. “You drained me.” 

“Está bien. I managed to convince you in here and that’s enough for me.” Imelda cupped his cheeks, gazing into his eyes. 

He groaned. “Ayyy, we are not doing this ever again.” 

“Hmmm.” 

“I mean it.” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

“En serio, ‘Melda. Once is enough.” 

“Next time it might be _you_ who wants to bang at the shoe store.” 

“I don’t think so. I would _never.”_ He sealed that vow with a kiss. 

“Never say never, mi amor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had been a long time since we did anything sexy for Imector, so here's the first 2020 nsfw piece!


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